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To The Man Who Broke Me

I knew that from the beginning, but I didn't care. I refused to listen to my friends' warnings that we clashed too much. I refused to listen to the little red flags at the beginning. All I knew was that I saw a caring person who needed someone to help them, and I wanted to be that person.

What I didn't know until months out of our relationship (if you could even call it that) is that you are the worst kind of abuser: one who doesn't even try to abuse someone but just does.

You see, you're the kind of person who believes that you really want to help people be the best they can be. But the problem is that you want everyone to be your version of the best they can be. You want everyone to meld and form to your version of a perfect world. That's what makes you so infuriating, but it's so hard to be mad at you when I know you don't intend to make people miserable. Or at least that's how you present yourself.

I was the perfect target. I was already in an insecure place and craving approval from anyone in my life. I was hiding behind a mask, which made it easy for you to meld me into your idea of how I should be. I was the girl that was too stubborn to see what you were doing to me. I saw someone who seemed even more broken than I already was, and I wanted to help you heal. So for a solid year, I was your mental and emotional punching bag. You would criticize me, but then call yourself a monster the second I expressed any type of hurt in reaction to your treatment. It was the perfect disguise. Instead of focusing on how you treated me, I focused on building you up and convincing you that you weren't a monster. If only I had known.

You were clever about how you went about it too. It started with subtle, small criticisms. Then it slowly grew. Until suddenly I was never good enough for you, but "too good" at the same time. You "couldn't understand" how I would still want to be with "a monster like [you]" day in and day out. But I was still never good enough. You wouldn't even tell your parents about me or officially ask me out. And then you would play with affection towards me. You'd write me poetry, but still be distant in public. You were fine with making out with me in your car, but God forbid I tell my best friend about our first kiss or anyone see us expressing affection for each other. You only told me you loved me over text and if I needed consoling. Never in person. Never random. Just as a way to keep me hanging on. Did you even love me? I still wonder sometimes.

I finally hit my breaking point and walked away. I realized how broken I was, but you still had to make me hold on. You wanted to be friends despite everything that happened. Luckily for you, I was still in love with you despite my broken heart and stupidly agreed to keep texting platonically. This was my worst mistake out of everything as it delayed my healing process.

You see, I wasn't allowed to be hurt. You were severely depressed after our breakup and "needed me" to assure you that you didn't ruin the relationship. Of course, I fell for it. I told you what you wanted to hear. But then, in my attempts to genuinely help you, I went too far. I was worried about you and tried to get you to talk to a psychiatrist. Suddenly I broke your trust completely and did everything wrong. I couldn't handle it anymore and just stopped texting you.

Yet, you still won't leave.

You're "better now" and you "really do" want to be friends. You want us to find "closure" and start over.

But now? I'm done. I recognize you for what you are, and I want you out of my life. I'm still angry, and probably will be for a while. But I've finally made the first step in recovery and recognized the problem. Maybe someday, somehow, you'll see this letter and it will resonate with you. But it doesn't matter. I'm moving on to a better life full of self-esteem and no masks needing to be worn. I'm teaching myself that only my opinion of myself matters. I'm teaching myself how to recognize toxic people. I'm teaching myself that it's okay to go about recovery and a slower pace than I want. I'm teaching myself that I am good enough for the right person, and anyone who thinks otherwise is not welcome in my life.

I'm still struggling, but I'm walking away stronger for it. There will be a day where I can think about you without crying. Until then, I'll be learning to live without you and your baggage.